


Forgiveness

by thequeergiraffe



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Supernatural
Genre: but - Freeform, cas is a time lord, i know you guys hate it when i do that, i really like to do it, this is not told in order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-01
Updated: 2013-12-01
Packaged: 2018-01-03 02:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1064897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeergiraffe/pseuds/thequeergiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is it?” Sam asked eventually, when the silence had stretched on to an uncomfortable length. “A Time Lord? Is it a title?”</p><p>“It's a species,” Castiel answered, frowning. He looked up and met Sam's eyes. “It's what I am. A long time ago there were billions of us.” He looked away again, busying his hands on the controls. “Now there's only me.”</p><p>--</p><p>Alternately: Time is a Length of Rope and I'm Trying Desperately to Hang Myself with It</p><p>Cas is a fob-watched Time Lord. His TARDIS looks like an Impala.</p><p>(This was posted on my tumblr but never made its way over here.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was an ordinary day. Mr. Novak packed his bag carefully, taking special care with his old Bible, rubbing a loving finger down its spine before heaving a contented sigh and closing his bag. He was in a fine mood. Amelia was making meatloaf for dinner. Claire was doing so well in school. And Jimmy...well, Jimmy had come quite a way in the last year. To think, he used to sell ad space on the radio. On AM radio, at that. But Jimmy's luck had inexplicably changed; a friend from his congregation had mentioned an opening at the local Christian school, and Jimmy had fallen tidily into a surprisingly prestigious position. He taught a business class. He had students. Young minds, waiting to be filled with knowledge.

 

Jimmy closed his eyes and took a moment to thank God.

 

“Mr. Novak?”

 

One of Jimmy's students, Emily, stood shyly near her desk, her hands twisting around each other.

 

Jimmy lifted his eyebrow slightly. “Yes?”

 

“I...I don't mean to pry, but...” She coughed and began to twist a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “I just...my grandpa, he's an antiques dealer, and he would just- well, he would- I mean, if you wanted to show it to him, I think he'd just love that watch of yours.” She pointed to Jimmy's pocket, her cheeks reddening.

 

Jimmy almost flushed, too, his hand automatically falling to the fob watch that hung out of his breast pocket. It was a little bit pretentious, Jimmy knew, but...he had a strange fondness for that watch. An attachment that couldn't be explained. “This old thing?” he asked, lifting it gently free of his pocket and cupping it in his hand. Sometimes Jimmy thought his love for that stupid watch bordered sacrilegious; he would never say as much out loud, but there were times when he almost imagined he could hear- but no, that was silliness. He shoved the watch back in his pocket and looked at Emily steadily. “It's not worth anything, trust me. Doesn't even work anymore.” Jimmy chuckled and shook his head. “I can't believe I still carry the old piece of junk around.”

 

“May I...” Emily pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. “May I...look at it?”

 

Something protective inside Jimmy bared its teeth. “I...” But why shouldn't she look at it? The watch didn't have any value. Certainly she wouldn't steal it, or break it. So why did he feel so uncomfortable, as though she'd asked to see something private? “Of course,” Jimmy said slowly, carefully extracting the watch from his pocket again. He held it out, hesitated, then dropped it into her waiting palm.

 

Emily smiled. She held the watch up and regarded it with interest. “Where did you get this?” she asked softly. There was something like awe in her voice, the sound of it making Jimmy's stomach tighten with incomprehensible worry.

 

“I don't...” He paused and shook his head. “I don't remember.”

 

“No,” Emily sighed, her voice hushed and reverent. “You wouldn't. Haven't you ever tried to open it?” For the first time, she met Jimmy's eyes. “Can't you hear it? Can't you hear it whispering?” There was something awful in her eyes, something that made Jimmy take a clumsy step backwards. “Don't be afraid, Castiel,” she whispered breathlessly, her fingers fumbling along the edge of the watch. “I'm here to save you.”

“Don't,” Jimmy gasped, suddenly more frightened than he'd even been in his life. More than anything, he didn't want Emily to open that watch. He didn't want to hear it whispering, louder now with Emily's hands cupped around it, always whispering the same thing: “ _Castiel, Castiel, Castiel_.” He pressed his hands to his ears, mortified by the tears that spilled from his eyes as he cowered against the chalkboard. “Please, please, don't.”

 

“Oh, Castiel.” Emily gave him a pitying look. “You never were any good at being human.”

 

She opened the watch.

 

And Jimmy remembered.


	2. Chapter 2

“So...it's a spaceship,” Sam said incredulously.

 

Castiel nodded.

 

“And it looks like an Impala because...”

 

“Camouflage,” Castiel said, smiling a little at the way Dean was circling the TARDIS, his eyes wide.

 

“We're in space,” Sam said, in the sort of tone one uses when they're saying something very obvious. “How is that camouflage?”

 

Eyeing the surrounding area with a frown, Castiel said, “We're on the Moon. That hardly counts as space.” At Sam's sour look, he sighed and explained, “The TARDIS used to be able to change its appearance to fit its surroundings. But there was a minor...mishap. I stopped off in 1973, the TARDIS took this form, and...well.” He gestured awkwardly to the TARDIS. “It was a notoriously faulty function, anyway.”

 

Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the hood, frowning. Dean, on the other hand, looked up at Castiel with wonder. “We're on the Moon,” he said, almost more like he was asking.

 

Castiel's smile grew slightly. “Yes.”

 

“Dude,” Dean grinned. “There's something I always wanted to do.” He took a huge step forward, his arms stuck out awkwardly at his side. Then he took another, and another, all the while making strange noises with his mouth. “That's one small step for man-”

 

Sam groaned loudly. “Really?”

 

“What?” Dean stopped and gave Sam a skeptical look. “Like you didn't think about it?”

 

“I could,” Castiel cut in, before the bickering got out of hand, “turn the gravity stabilizer off for a moment.”

 

Sam and Dean stared at Castiel, then exchanged a look.

 

If the three of them spent the next hour or so bouncing around on the moon and giggling like idiots, that was their business. The boys deserved a moment of fun, or so Castiel felt.

 

_The End is coming. Let them have fun while they still can._


	3. Chapter 3

“Castiel,” the Leviathan sniffed. Her eyes narrowed. “When last we met, you were called 'The Soldier'.”

 

“I'm ancient,” Castiel said calmly. “I've had many names.”

 

The Leviathan laughed contemptuously. “You think you're ancient, Time Lord?” She shifted her balance, her stance taking on a confrontational air. “I've lived the span of your pitiful life a thousand times over.”

 

“And in all those years, you never learned the most important lesson of all.”

 

“And what's that, exactly?” the Leviathan sneered.

 

Castiel's lowered his head sternly, his shoulders squaring. “The importance of having a few good friends.” In that exact instant, Dean swung his scythe and took her head cleanly from her shoulders.

 

Later, inside the TARDIS, Sam gave Castiel a long look. “She called you Time Lord,” he said quietly.

 

Castiel didn't look up from the controls.

 

“What is it?” Sam asked eventually, when the silence had stretched on to an uncomfortable length. “A Time Lord? Is it a title?”

 

“It's a species,” Castiel answered, frowning. He looked up and met Sam's eyes. “It's what I am. A long time ago there were billions of us.” He looked away again, busying his hands on the controls. “Now there's only me.”

 

“I'm sorry,” Sam said immediately. And he clearly meant it; Sam had the astonishing ability to recognize the grief inside of people and acknowledge it without seeming insincere or pitying. He was a good companion, possibly the best Castiel had ever taken.

 

Dean, on the other hand, was a little less gentle. “What happened to them all?” he asked gruffly, leaning against one of the supports that hung down from the ceiling.

 

Sam gave Dean a pointed look, but Dean ignored it in favor of staring at Castiel intently. “They died,” Castiel answered stiffly.

 

Dean's frown deepened. “Yeah, I got that. How'd they die?”

 

“There was a war.”

 

Suddenly, Dean's posture changed. His back straightened, his arms uncrossed. A look of newfound respect stole into his eyes. “Man,” he said softly. “That must have been one hell of a war.”

 

The laugh that stole out of Castiel's mouth was bitter and humorless. “Yes. That's exactly what it was.” He looked around the TARDIS wistfully. “I barely escaped with my life. I don't think anyone else got away. Just me.”

 

When his eyes fell back to Dean, he noticed the human was regarding him much more coolly. “So you, what, deserted? Left your friends and family there to die while you ran off like a coward?”

 

“Dean-” Sam began.

 

Castiel cut in over him. “I had no choice. If I had stayed, I would be dead.”

 

“Bullshit,” Dean spat, taking a few steps towards Castiel and jabbing his finger in the Time Lord's chest. “There's always a choice. You should have been there for your family.”

 

Shame and guilt turned Castiel's blood hot. His two hearts thumped treacherously in his chest. Dean was right; of course he was. And Castiel knew it. But what he could he do? It was too late... “There's nothing I could do for them then, and there's nothing I can do for them now. I can't go back, Dean. Believe me, I've tried.”

 

Dean's eyebrows pulled together, but beside him Sam's expression softened in understanding. “It's a fixed point, isn't it? You can't change it, no matter what.”

 

“Something like that,” Castiel agreed. “Someone sealed it up. It's time-locked, the entire war is. No matter how badly I might want to, I can't get back in.” He met Dean's eyes steadily, his chin raised. “So say whatever you want about me. I deserve it, and it can't be any worse than the things I've said to myself.”

 

The silence stretched between them, Dean's eyes searching Castiel's- for what, Castiel wasn't sure. Genuine repentance? Guilt? Anger? Whatever it was, he either found it or stopped looking. Dropping his gaze, Dean swore softly and licked his lips. “First we deal with the Leviathan. Then we figure out how to bust open that time-lock and do right by your people.” At the first sign of Castiel's protestation, Dean raised his hand and shook his head. “I know you said it's impossible, Cas, but let me tell you: I've seen a whole hell of a lot of impossible things here lately, enough to know there's no such thing. We're getting you home, or we're gonna die trying.”

 


End file.
